#this is what archaeologists would taste like

[grimm-writings]

Hi there!

I'd like to request something for the Laios party x reader where reader licks rocks like how archaeologists sometimes do to determine if it's a rock or a fossil. They just won't stop licking stuff. One moment you are just having a chat and walking side by side and the next reader grabs a rock and licks it. How would they react to their crush licking things that are certainly not food?

“stop licking the damn thing!”

…ft! touden party x gn! reader, platonic izutsumi & reader

…tags! fluff, some crack, headcanon format, grimm doesn't know shit about rocks

…wc! 342 ; 400 ; 405 ; 344 ; 303 = 1794

…notes! this ask enraptured me i had to complete it posthaste. i’m not an expert in archeology or geology, but i hope you enjoy! 

Laios

“Ooh, can I have a lick?”

His ass does NOT give a fuck.

You could do anything and he wouldn’t be fazed I’m dead serious.

Honestly, once you do it in front of him he’d steer the conversation towards your study and how you figure out each time what is a rock and what is a fossil.

He may not fully take in all the information you give him.  This isn’t a topic he’s admittedly too interested in.

Honestly he’d probably take up some of your advice and see if he tastes monster he can figure out certain things about it.  Considering most monsters are made of raw meat, he has to be held back by your fellow partymates.

Someone (Chilchuck) usually has to encourage you to not “enable his behaviours.”

Overall, Laios simply does not judge!  He’s open and welcoming, and will even take part in your study with you!

(It’s an added bonus that he really likes how you explain things to him…)

Almost like an eager dog, Laios leans over your shoulder to look at the stone in your hand.  Prepared to explain yourself, like usual, you take a breath. “May I?” he interrupts you.  You still for a second.  Does he mean…? You slowly lift the rock up to the taller man behind you.  You don’t have any words as he leans down to give a small lick. You’re almost flattered from how open he is to it. At the taste, Laios’ eyebrows furrow, and he seems to seriously try to dissect the flavour.  He hums and tilts his head to you.  “Salty?” “Yeah,” you reply, slowly growing a bit more comfortable as you get an excuse to talk about your study, “so that means this rock might contain evaporite minerals.” Laios smiles slightly, leaning back to his full height to converse with you in a more casual position.  “Which are?” Your conversation continues, with Laios taking mental notes that he’ll hopefully remember for later next time he comes across a monster. Maybe if you find a gargoyle…

Marcille

Sorry she is so judgemental.

You are so lucky she likes you or else she’ll loudly give her opinion on how gross it is.

Well, that is until she learns the context as to why.

She’ll still be a little bit unsure, wondering if it’s proper conduct at all.

Marcille is trying her best, she really is, but you can’t just end a conversation so suddenly because you saw a rock, licked it in front of her, and said “hm… sedimentary.”

She wonders every day what she did to deserve such an… interesting taste in crushes. 

Though, like all things, give Marcille some time and she’ll warm up to your habits a bit more.  It may even be that she’ll be wondering about her study of the dungeon, running her hand along the wall, and thinking that she could call out to you to taste the wall and tell her the material.

She may not try out the method herself, but she’ll at least tolerate how you do it.  There’s a science behind it, after all…

Marcille stares as you lick your lips and hum to yourself.  Her mouth is a thin line and she’s trying her best not to come out with a disapproving comment. “Any… interesting findings…?”  She stiffly asks instead, gripping Ambrosia as if you’ll try licking her to figure out the levels of Mana too.  You can never be too cautious, even if she is only made out of wood. You smile at Marcille, either blissfully unaware of her austerity or pretending to be.  You hold up the stone in your hand and outline something with your finger.  “I think if we break this, we might find some fossils inside it.  You can keep it for your research if you want.” Marcille’s ears perk up slightly at that.  “For… me?”  She asks aloud, as if there’s anyone else who’d be interested in dungeon rocks.  As soon as she processes it she’s flushed and avoiding eye contact.  “I mean, this is your field of study, not mine!  I couldn’t possibly…” But you take her hands in your own, and place the fossil in her palm.  Marcille’s breath hitches when you take her fingers and fold them over the stone. “I trust you to come up with something.”  You beam at the elf, and she thinks that she might just have to take a chance in your skills.

Chilchuck

Not exactly open to it, not entirely critical about it either…

…But you will get a bit of a look whenever you do it.

He might be more the kind to make sure you aren’t outright doing it at stupid moments.  You better not get any ideas looking at those statues!

Sometimes you’ll be about to hold the stone up to your mouth, and right when your tongue is about to touch it, you’ll hear Chilchuck sigh a “don’t.”

Honestly this guy is treating you like a dog with something it shouldn’t have in its mouth.  Don’t worry, worrying and fretting is how he shows his love.

Even if he doesn’t like admitting to it…

If you try to explain how licking things helps in your study, Chil is inclined to raise his eyebrow and say that your field must be full of weirdos.

Then again, he’s the one who likes you so maybe he shouldn’t be too harsh…

He’s willing to let you do what you need to do but that doesn’t mean you’re free from his scathing commentary.

Crouched down, you analyse some rock in front of you.  It stands out a fair bit from most of the other geodes down here.  What could it be…? You lean in, your tongue grazing the stone slightly, and you lick.  The tip of your tongue familiarises itself with the taste.  Maybe metamorphic…? “Are you serious?”  You freeze at the sound of Chilchuck’s boyish voice.  On your hands and knees licking rocks isn’t exactly the ideal position to be judged in, even as you turn to look at the half-foot, arms crossed.  “Senshi is in the middle of cooking, no need to resort to eating rocks.” You roll your eyes.  You’re used to how Chilchuck treats your study at this point.  “I was just curious.” Chilchuck scoffs, walking up to pull you by the back of your collar up onto your feet again, which you do with some coercion.  “Yeah sure,” he says, “just wanna confirm you haven’t completely lost your marbles yet.” You look up at him, and squint.  Holding back a laugh, you mutter, “was that…?” “No, it wasn’t a dad joke,”  Chilchuck sighs, leaving you to your devices again.  “Just don’t do anything stupid when no one’s watching.” He hopes even as you giggle and confirm, you won’t notice the bright blush blooming on Chilchuck’s cheeks and tips of his ears.  How embarrassing…

Senshi

Also winning the dgaf war I fear.

He’d watch you lick some of the rocks you had picked out from your travels while resting.

It comes as no surprise that it then crosses his mind if the flavour changes when cooked, which he asks if he can do with some of your selection.

You can use your imagination on how Marcille and Chilchuck reacted when told that today’s dinner is … just rocks.

(Laios is disappointed that it isn’t any cool monster rocks.)

One delightful montage later, and ‘tis finished!  Since they are for your research, Senshi insists you have the first bite.

Crunch… and oh, such unique flavours!

You gush to Senshi about how this is a major breakthrough in how different minerals react to cooking conditions, and he gives you his observations too.

Honestly, just sort of wholesome bonding!

“Aye, this one cooked easily, while this one took plenty more time.” You nod eagerly as you watch Senshi point to two different stones.  “That’s because one is an igneous rock, which is magmatic.  The other is a sedimentary rock, which carries different minerals from lakes and oceans.  Separation in cooking must have resulted in different reactions!  I wonder how different metamorphic rocks would react…” As you mumble to yourself, Senshi happily continues his meal-making, occasionally responding back to you with hums and comments about what else each observed in his experimentation. Even when you had finished up your meal entirely, you thanked Senshi with the widest grin on your face.  He couldn’t help but be just a little flattered when you go on to joke that you should bring him home with you so he can help with your research. In return, Senshi listens to you, and hangs on your every word as you explain your findings to him.  Even if not too nutritious of a meal, the minerals from the rocks provide some calcium and other such buffs! And well…  If he can keep that happiness prolonged with his cooking, then he’s doing a very good job providing for you indeed!

Izutsumi

“Why are you eating rocks?  Looks gross.”

Make way for the #1 hater…

Izutsumi refuses to listen to any such rationalities you make about your study or why you lick rocks (even though she’s the one who asked), she’s still finding it icky and weird.

You’d have to fight fire with fire when it comes to her, you’ll question why she does some habits she does in return – such as licking her hand.

She’ll look at you like you’re stupid, before telling you that it’s a way for her to clean herself and notice if there’s anything caught in her fur.

“Ah, so like how I would lick rocks to identify anything embedded in them too!”

…How dare you try to rationalise yourself with her own logic, heathen.

Jail for reader.  Jail for 1000 years.

She’s not one to so readily accept other people’s weird quirks, but eventually she has to find that she’ll look stupid if she doesn’t…  It’s a bit of a dirty scheme, but it works.

“Come on, Izu, just give it a try!  I promise it just tastes like water.” “What kinda water?!”  She shoots back. You pause.  “W…Water?” This is how the argument between whether or not water has a flavour comes to be.  Izutsumi insists that some water tastes icky while others taste nice.  You have to explain that this pure water simply doesn’t have a taste.  She doesn’t believe you. In fact, Izutsumi makes you give the sedimentary stone another taste before affirming, it just tastes like water.  She’s about to grab your shoulders and shake you.  What kind of water?! It takes plenty of encouragement and an immediate failsafe orange juice Senshi squeezed out for her to ‘get rid of’ the taste when you get Izutsumi to taste the stone. She still hasn’t forgiven you… 

#✮ grimm's fics! #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #laios touden #laios touden x reader #laios #laios x reader #laios touden imagines #laios imagines #dungeon meshi x reader #dungeon meshi imagines #delicious in dungeon imagines #delicious in dungeon x reader #marcille donato x reader #marcille donato #marcille x reader #marcille delicious in dungeon #marcille dungeon meshi #marcille donato imagines #chilchuck imagines #chilchuck #chilchuck tims #chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck x reader #chilchuck tims imagines #senshi #senshi of izganda #senshi x reader #senshi imagines #izutsumi

[frogspond200]

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝙿𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚔𝚘v 𝙾𝚗𝚎-𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝

Requested by: Anon

Ask: Can we get a yandere Simon Petrikov one-shot please? (It can be any scenario you want it to be, l'm not picky):))

Warning: general yandere behavior

Date: 9/4/2023

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Our story begins in the Land of Ooo, where Simon Petrikov, once a kind and gentle archaeologist, is now consumed by the Ice King's madness. He spends his days collecting trinkets and artifacts, desperately searching for a way to regain his sanity.

Upon laying eyes on the reader, Simon is immediately captivated by their presence. The reader's appearance, demeanor, and even voice remind him of a time long gone, the 2000s when life was seemingly more straightforward and ordinary. As the story progresses, Simon's obsession with the reader intensifies, bordering on dangerous infatuation.

"They're perfect" Simon whispers under his breath. He begins to feel a strong compulsion to do whatever it takes to make the reader his own. He starts to devise a plan to make them his, no matter the cost. He knows he must act fast before someone else takes them away.

"Excuse me!" Simon catches up with them, waving his hands in the air. "I-I'm Simon" He pants catching his breath. "Simon Petrikov, you look... nostalgic to me...I-In a good way!" He chuckles. He looks good, even handsome with his dark brown messy hair. Simon looks friendly and kind, with a warm, inviting smile. He has a soft, gentle face, and his eyes sparkle with kindness...

His demeanor was warm and inviting, and his voice was gentle and soothing. He gave off a comforting aura, and it was easy to tell he was a kind and caring person so you introduced yourself back. "I'm Y/n"

"y/n..." He whispered under his tongue. It tasted like sweet natural honey in his mouth... It was clear that he was taken aback by your presence. His eyes sparkled with admiration and a hint of surprise. There was no way you would never notice his true obsession with you. He nervously shifted his gaze away, as if he was afraid of revealing too much.

His cheeks were tinted with a faint hue of pink, a sure sign that he was blushing. His lips curved into a shy smile, and he muttered a soft 'yes'. That he finally found someone like him...who couldn't wrap their heads around this fucked up reality, and he wanted to keep it that way.

He wanted to keep them safe, and he wanted to keep them close. He wanted to protect them, and he wanted to make sure they were happy. He wanted to keep this moment between them forever. And he was going to. No. Matter. What. Even if he has to keep them, even if he has to kill them. He was going to do whatever it took to make sure they were safe and happy. He was going to make sure that nothing would ever tear them apart. He was determined to make this a reality.

You were woken up around 3 a.m., and your body was craving something to drink, so you got up and went to your kitchen in your PJ shorts and an oversized shirt you bought for no reason except that it was bigger than you. You opened the fridge and saw a bottle of water placed there some time ago. It was still cold and you gulped it down in one go. You felt like someone's eyes were on you, making you tense.

Then there was a knock at your door, opening it you saw Simon who looked like he hadn't had any sleep, he was sweating, his hair more messy than usual, he was fidgeting with his finger, he mumbled "I'm sorry for what I'm about to do y/n" you tilted your head. He threw something at you. You can't remember what, you just remember seeing stars before everything turned black.

You slowly gain consciousness, rubbing your head and groaning. You ran your head over your neck, no chains or collars...Then your wrist, nothing...you glided your hands down your body...clothes still on. No bounds, cuts, or bruises. "I'm not that curl dear..." You snapped your head towards the voice, moving away. You couldn't see him due to the lack of light in the room but you could hear him. He stepped closer...

The more you moved back, a hand came into your vision. It brushed a messy strand out of your face. "Are you alright?" it asked calmly. A face came into your vision. You didn't wanna look at it. You had an idea of who it was but you didn't want to admit it was him. He would never do a thing like this. Right? You looked down at the white sheets around your body. "Why?" you asked. Your voice wasn't loud or pissed. It was weak and heartbroken.

You heard a sigh come out of his mouth. He didn't say anything. He just grabbed your hand and squeezed it gently. You knew he was trying to tell you that everything was going to be alright, even though you both knew he just fucked up your relationship with each other. You felt a wave of emotions sweep over you and all you wanted to do was cry, another cry escaped his lips and he sat on the bed, bringing you closer to him, even when you tried hitting his chest and pushing you away he kept you against his chest, running his finger through your hair whispering things like "It's gonna be ok" and "I did all of this for you"

You continued to cry and he held you until you had no more tears left. He kissed your forehead and let you go, looking into your eyes with love and understanding. He wiped away your tears. A smile crept onto his face. It wasn't a possessive one.

He took your hand and slowly pulled you towards him. He hugged you tightly and whispered, "It's going to be alright, dear…You're safe here with me. and with me alone." He kissed your lips gently. His lips felt warm and loving, like a comforting blanket of security and safety. His touch was gentle and reassuring, urging you to relax and take some much-needed comfort...

#x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere one shot #yandere Simon x reader #yandere Simon petrikov x reader #yandere Simon perrikov #simon x reader adventure time #simon adventure time #simon fionna and cake #simon petrikov #simon petrikov x reader #simon x reader #yandere Simon x reader adventure time #yandere Simon fionna and cake #yanderw Simone adventure time #simon petrikov adventure time #simon petrikov fionna and cake

[cin-cant-donate-blood]

I think there is something really tragic about those posts that are like "man can you imagine future archaeologists reading our posts" because I don't actually believe even a fraction of all the things we say will survive for very long.

We supposedly live in an information age where everything is recorded, and people say that once something is on the internet, it is there for ever, but this is clearly not true.

Most of the internet is managed by corporations, and when a certain website dies, there is absolutely no incentive to spend all the money necessary to preserve ecerything that was ever posted. Maybe Archive.org will have saved a lot, but it can't save everything.

Even right now internet history going back as recently as the 90s is really spotty. A lot of forums and sites are simply lost to time.

And maybe one day Archive.org will run out of money too, and everything they preserved will be lost, not in a dramatic bang like the fire in the Library of Alexandria, but with a whimper, like the many thousands of times more documents that have been lost simply because no one copied them in the few decades they had before the mold or worms or whatever else got to them.

Think of Sappho and Catullus, two of the most celebrated poets of ancient Greece and Rome respectively. Both were prolific, and both were titans, widely celebrated for their extraordinary work, long after their deaths.

Both had a single century or two where people got tired of them, and almost every single thing they ever wrote was irrecoverably lost, because books do not last forever, especially not the ones written on papyrus, which was the dominant medium at the time and has a quoted life span of about 70 years unless stored in nearly perfect conditions (desert conditions, which is why we associate papyrus with Egypt).

All we have now are a handfull of fragments of their work. They are, once again, and perhaps forever, celebrated as geniuses, but we can't ever undo that single, brief moment where the majority of their work was lost forever, not out of malice, but out of indifference.

Everything not actively, painstakingly, expensively maintained will be lost, inevitably and irretrievably. Stone carvings last longer, but they're horribly space inefficient. The invention of parchment, which can survive centuries, greatly improved things, but that too is extremely expensive compared to paper or papyrus. Modern digital storage is the same; we just made the copying process easier.

One day, tumblr will die. It is as inevitable as your death or mine. Or the death of the sun. In fact, tumblr will probably die within our lifetimes. When it dies, some things will be saved, but many will not. Some will miss it, but most will forget. Out of millions of posts, perhaps a few hundred thousand survive as jpeg screenshots on reddit, instagram, or whatever sites survive tumblr. Then, as those die, perhaps ten thousand screenshots of screenshots carry on to new social media sites, as of yet not made. And then a thousand of those survive as those sites die.

And maybe those will be the thousand best, and maybe some expert will even be able to tell you that they're screenshots of tumblr, and in a few words what tumblr was, but what even is the thousand best? Every copying act is a choice by someone who thought it was worth copying. Tastes change, and as they do, maybe one generarion's favorite is destroyed by the neglect of the next.

Tumblr isn't special. This is the future of all social media. Echos will persist, but so much will be lost.

So maybe, one day, an internet archaeologist will find your silly tumblr post about how crazy it would be if someone was reading what you said centuries from now. Unfortunately, there will be so much context missing. Maybe your post will be one of a mere hundred remaining, most of which make references to in-jokes and memes long forgotten: incomprehensible and empty. Like the statue in Ozymandias: nothing beside remains.

I'll end this with a poem from the lost poets I mentioned, and since this is tumblr, why not a gay one? Both Catullus and Sappho have their share of love poems dedicated to members of the same sex, but the partial poem known as Sappho 31 is probably the most well known. This is Edward Storer's translation:

He seems like a god to me the man who is near you,

Listening to your sweet voice and exquisite laughter

That makes my heart so wildly beat in my breast.

If I but see you for a moment, then all my words

Leave me, my tongue is broken and a sudden fire

Creeps through my blood. No longer can I see.

My ears are full of noise. In all my body I

Shudder and sweat. I am pale as the sun-scorched

Grass. In my fury I seem like a dead woman,

But I would dare...

... and that's it. The ending has never been found. Scholars think anywhere between a few lines and half the poem is missing.

#sorry for the bummer post lol. just had thoughts #mini essay #takes #history #poetry #archaeology #sappho #catullus #ancient greece #ancient rome #ancient history

[yandere-wishes]

With who would you ship yourself in MHA? 👀

@yandere-romanticaa

Omg, it's been a hot minute since I dabbled in MHA… But let me crack open the vault real quick.

So first off, and this should be obvious…

Dabi! The reason I started the show in the first place!! This boy's Frankenstein aesthetic had me swooning from the moment I saw a GIF of him!! And unconventional colored flames that probably symbolize a deep-seated trauma!! YES!! I honestly think we would make a good couple, kinda like Frankenstein and his bride (in a romanticized way), we'd have the Goth BF x Lolita GF vibes which are a bonus. I also get the inkling we'd share the same taste in music (Chase Atlantic, Neighborhood, Mr.Kitty)

Shigaraki is next and tbh I don't really know when I feel for him. Just that at one point he was all I could think about. I think it's something about his twisted legacy and conflicting nature that has rendered him into a decaying amalgamation of hate and misplaced ambitions, that really gets a girl's heart beating out of her chest, you know? He was always like an odd species that I came across in the backyard one day and had to analyze under a microscope. Desperate to learn his fundamentals, to unravel his soul. Understand him in the same way an archaeologist longs to understand the past.

I think our love is something like that of an obsessive scientist and her new discovery. Chaotic and all-consuming yet so frail and feeble to onlookers. A tame fire that leaves one utterly devoured, yet still longing for more. I think we'd be pretty good for each other.

NINE! He appeared in one movie and I was SO obsessed with him!! I had a countdown for when his movie would release. I remember for my 16th birthday we went to the fancy movie theater in town just to watch this guy on the big screen. And then all my friends burst out laughing when he died at the end. Ultimately my 2 month long craze over him died in that dark movie theater. TBH I don't really think we'd make a good couple, maybe just a casual fling or some hookups when life gets tough/boring. Nothing serious yet still a fundamental part of each other's lives.

Finally, we have Bakugo, the love-hate relationship I had with this guy was crazy. I was so madly in love with him one minute and the other I just wanted to suffocate him!! IDK what it was he was just so irritating and lovable at the same time. Another relationship that wouldn't work out. I don't even think he'd notice me in school and I'd just be in the corner secretly hating him because he has the perfect life. Popular, lots of friends, good grades. Even if we were in UA together I still don't think we'd end up together. Maybe a slight nod of acknowledgment in the halls one time when he's in a particularly good mood. But that's about it.

Now that I'm revisiting my tween crushes, I got a fun little au for Bakugo.

Imagine being Pro-Hero Bakugo's mistress. Just his girl on the side. For whatever reason you can't be together in public, you'd ruin each other's images. I think the reader kinda wants to ruin Bakugo's life just because she hated him in middle/high school. But Bakugo becomes too infatuated with her to let her leave him. Somehow they both end up destroying each other's lives. Yet ultimately Bakougou couldn't be happier.

This was such a long awnser🤣🤣

#mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #yandere bakugou #bakugou x reader #dabi #shigaraki tomura #nine #yandere #yancore #askbox

[faline-cat444]

Evolution of a "Western" Peach

Mario Party 2 looks like it might have hit most of the ideas of costumes/stages it doesn't seem Showtime will include.Makes me wonder how exactly the present day interpretations of Pirate,Wizard,Astronaut,and Archaeologist would look in matters of what would be retained versus altered given the amount of details we're capable of in games now and general tastes as a whole.

#Princess Peach #Princess Peach Showtime #Mario Party #Cowgirl Peach

[soxcietyy]

Egyptian

Hawks x reader

Very old…pharaoh hawks au.

You sat in a rolling chair with a black pen in your mouth as you analyzed a script. It was about the one of the best soldiers of Egypt back in the 3100 BCE. But you've been stuck on it for days. You where a archaeologists who was in the look for answers about a great soldier and Anubis who was a Egyptian god. Anubis was worshipped as the god of the dead but when Osiris took on this role, Anubis became the god of mummification. The only odd thing about this though was that there was only one story told about them and it was how they met.

Keigo Takami one of the greatest soldiers alive at that time was known for his fierce red wings and for being one of the pharaohs personal soldiers. He was guarding a room which happened to be the kings who was dying from an illness at the time. He stood their with another guard day and night until one stormy night he was doing his daily routine chatting with his friend until something caught his eye. A shadow appear creeping up from the corner. Putting his weapon up he walked towards the person until he was met with a tall, slim figure with a dark dog head. During this time they where at war and the last thing they needed was the kings death. So Keigo knew what he had to do. He had to fight, or to stall so he wouldn't be taken away. His precious king needed to live.

And that's where it ended, no traces of Keigo was ever found and the person to witness it all went missing a few days later as he carved the painting. what you couldn't figure out was what happened after. Their was no more records of Keigo after what you've studied. The only thing found was the kings body which they later on buried.

You breath out heavily in frustration not knowing where to go after this. Being very bothered you didn't noticed that the pen had exploded in your mouth until you tasted the ink.

"Gah!" You yell running to the sink spitting everything out. "Squawk!" Your pet bird yelled as he watched. Today was going to be a long day. As you rinsed You mouth with water you phone began ringing. You fumbled around trying to turn the faucet off while looking back at your table.

"Hello?" You say drying your hands up.

"Y/N! I can't figure it out, this is impossible theirs nothing that talks about Keigo." Your friends cries.

She was one of your colleagues that was also in search for the same answer. This was her seventh time picking this research up.

"How do you think I feel Olva?Iv looked at almost every painting and script possible and still no answers." You sigh looking at your desk filled with notes and coffee. Maybe some rest will make you feel better or some actual food other than sugar cookies.

"Let's go to the museum and look around to see if they have something to help us. They could have secret scripts!" She giggled, "oh and it will be fun plus they have the actual tomb of the king." She added on.

It didn't seem like a bad idea at all. It also gave you a reason to go out for the first time in weeks. You've been too busy with the research making you be all cooped up in here like a chicken.

"Fine but only if you pay for lunch." You smirk.

"It's a deal, see you tomorrow y/n." She laughed and hung up.

Finally some rest! You throw your phone onto the bed and rest in your chair spinning yourself around. This was going to be the best sleep you've ever had. You never knew how much you needed it until you accidentally fell asleep in the shower two days ago.

Standing up you take your clothes off and sluggish got ready for bed. As you finished you walk up to your bird. "Hungry? Here's some dinner," You give him seeds and a fruit. He was your green and red love bird. He's been with you ever since high school and was your best friend. After giving him goodnight you walk to your bed And the he second you head hit the pillow you fell into a deep sleep.

"Beep! Beep! Beep!" Your phone alarm rang loudly. You groan not wanting your rest to end here. When would you be able to have another chance like this? You would be going back to your sad sleeping schedule. You managed to pull yourself together and sit up grabbing your phone to stop the alarm. You quickly get ready for your day until you realized the time 6:45pm.

"Oh fuck," You panic and run out the door with a bag in your hand. You shove your hand in your bag and take out your phone. Tons of missing calls and messages appeared. She was totally going to scold you for that. You hesitate but call and brought the phone to your ear.

"Olva! I'm so sorry my alarm was set for 6pm and I'm currently running to the museum that closes at 8." You say while running to your car. Their was a few minutes of silence until you heard her, "y/n if you don't get here I'm 20 minutes I will end you!" She yelled causing you to pull your phone away from your ear.

"Yes ma'am!" You Yelp and shoving the keys in and speeding off. When Olva was mad it was no joke. It was as if you angered the sea. You pull up to the museum in 15 minutes. You've never ran so fast in your life till now. Eventually you made it up the stairs and into the building showing the security guard your pass. Being a archaeologists gave you discounts and free passes to things such as this. As he scanned it and checked your belongings you thought about how you hadn't eaten all day.

"Welcome you have 38 minutes ," the officer says letting you go in. You nod and followed the signs that directed you to your destination. You made it there quite fast seeing her in the distance looking at her watch.

"Olva!" You yell in the distance, the place was almost empty with people leaving the place.

"Your late," she says crossing her arms.

"I know I know but I made other though." You pant resting your hands on your knees. She rolls her eyes and continues to walk to the pharaohs tomb. You follow along behind her analyzing everything in the room.

In there laid the tomb with dim lights on it. It was tall and tan color with the shape of the king. The tombs where carved by people for the king when he died. But before they did that his organs would be taken out and put in a jar. During the funeral Anubis would come and take out a scale with a feather and the dead persons heart. This would determine if they would go to the after world. They took this very seriously since it was believed that not just anyone could go there. If the heart weighed heavier he would not be allowed to go and be cursed a second death.

It was fascinating seeing the tomb up close. It made you wonder how he looked inside. Would taking a peek hurt? Nobody was around but you two. "Olva Im going to open this," You say getting closer.

"What are you crazy? Their going to kick us out!" She whispered aggressively as she grabbed your hand.

"What if this helps us uncover something? We would be the one of greatest archeologists! Almost every person has tired to figure this out and failed Olva. We can be the ones to find the answers." You say pulling your arm away. You put your hands on the tomb pulling it up with all of your force  opening it a bit. Before you could open it fully you heard someone near by. "The museum is now closed! If anyone's here please leave!" You heard in the distance. It was a guard walking around. You grab Olva and pushed her behind the Tomb that was on a stone table. Putting your finger up to your lip. You close up the casket causing something to come out. It was a red feather. You caught it as it floated in the air and ran behind the tomb. You saw Olva panic and shakily get up scared of staying during closing hours. If they see her here they will look for you too and it would get both of you in trouble. You shoved her back down making your body tower over hers. Your face was inches from hers making you look away as you covered her mouth. It was now Silent except for his foot step that walk into the room you where in. They became louder as he walked towards you guys. Your breath hitched as he stoped at your direction. You look back down to see her shaking her head.

"Are you serious?" You hear him say. Your heart stopped, you've been caught and you couldn't run leaving your friend behind. You pull the courage to stand up until he said something else.

"Brats left their bag here." He says as he shuffled around and left. A sigh of relief came to you as you peaked and saw nobody.

"Are you crazy?! How are we supposed to leave now? Oh sorry we where hiding but now we want to leave?" She says poking you repeatedly.

"Olva you don't understand this is for research! We will be the greatest of them all! All of those days without sleep won't be needed anymore. We're going to be rich!" You shake her and get back on your feet. The lights where now turned off except for one that shined in the middle making everything dim. You wave your hand for Olva to come over who hesitates but had no choice since she was already here.

Both of you pull with all your mighty force. You could feel the sweat roll down on your forehead as you pulled even harder. Your fingers hurt and your legs buckled until eventually it opened. You stumble back trying to catch your breath from holding it in.

"Y/n check this out..." she says shocked. You could see her eyes widen in shock. You comply and approached her to take a look. Inside was a mummy wrapped in bandages but it had something standing out. On the head their was a golden thin paper with a word carved on it. You couldn't really read it due to it being dark so you took it off and walked to the light.

Olva had her mouth wide open not wanting to believe you where this dumb. "We should leave now y/n I don't feel good about this." You hear her say worriedly in the background.

"Yea yea let me just read this it's kinda dirty and rusty." You wave her off and continue reading until you hear a quick whoosh and the light flickered. "Stupid light don't you see I'm busy here?" You mumbled and turn back around to see the body missing.

You freeze looking around until you feel someone grab your shoulder pulling you back and placing something sharp on your neck, the gold paper fell to the floor as you didn't dare to move. Olvas face was a clear as day, she was mortified.

"Where am I? Where is the king? Who are you people?" His deep voice said as he clenched your shoulder tighter.

"What are you talking about?" You say confused and turning around you see a man with blonde hair, jewelry that reached from his neck to his shoulders, a shirt made out of white clothes and red wings painted gold at the ends. He seemed to be wearing familiar clothes you’ve laid your eyes on before. Clothes of an ancient person…

This was undoubtedly Keigo Takami.

#my hero acedamia #mha hawks #hawks #keigo takami #keigo tamaki #hawks x you #hawks x self insert #hawks x y/n #hawks x reader #keigo x reader #keigo x you #keigo x y/n #bmha

[stargazer-sims]

Les nombreux looks de Félix

Félix enjoys dressing up. He looks good in almost everything, loves to experiment with fashion, and firmly believes that clothing has no gender. He thinks everyone should be able to wear whatever they want rather than being squeezed into a fashion category based on their age, biological sex, gender or body type. Félix adores skirts and dresses and cute shoes, and he's not afraid to show himself off.

He likes to slip into his favourite robe as soon as he gets out of bed, and usually wears it while he has his first cup or tea or coffee of the day. Unfortunately, he can't show you his pyjamas because he doesn't have any. (He prefers to sleep in the buff)

Here's a typical daily look. He wouldn't necessarily wear this around the flat when he's housecleaning or relaxing (or cooking... but Félix doesn't really cook). This is more the type of outfit he'd wear when going out to run errands, to attend a doctor or dentist appointment or to take Belle to the museum or library.

This is more along the lines of what he likes to wear while doing daily tasks at home. Jeans and t-shirts are a lot more practical than dresses for gardening, cutting the grass or scrubbing the floor.

He tries to keep his fashion choices tasteful and appropriate when he's on campus, so this is an example of what he might wear while teaching or meeting with his students during office hours.

Here's a cute outfit for some weekend adventuring around the city with Davian and Belle.

This one's for going out on the town with Davian.

One always has to look as cute as possible when going out for a run or heading to the gym, and who wants to wear boring grey or black sweats when there's pink?

Speaking of pink, here's an adorable ensemble for afternoon tea with his mother.

He may not own any PJs, but he does have an impressive collection of lingerie and playful nightgowns, some of which Davian has bought for him (for Davian's enjoyment too, of course).

As well as owning a lot of lingerie, he has a collection of swimwear. Some of it is more traditionally masculine, but he also has some bikini sets. He doesn't always wear the tops, though.

__________

... and then there's this:

Félix is a working archaeologist, and as much as he enjoys his vast wardrobe, most of it isn't practical when he's out in the field. At an excavation site or at the field station in Belomisia, this is what he's most likely to be wearing; sturdy boots, protective hat, and durable, practical clothes with lots of convenient pockets. Anyone who saw him at work on-site in Selvadorada probably would have to take a second look to make sure it's him, if they were familiar with his appearance at home in Willow Creek.

#ts4 #sims 4 #Félix Blanchet #stargazersims

[leopardgeckoz]

Zoro’s Favorite Thing

The Straw Hats sat around in a circle on deck, some were stretched out with limbs haphazardly thrown across another, others were sat up straight, and someone else (Chopper) was sitting in the lap of the dearly beloved archaeologist.

The Straw Hats had been sailing for some time, the logpose telling them they still had another few days before the next island, and much to the crew's dismay they had begun to get a little bored.  Out of a need for entertainment and also as some sort of bonding experience, the crew began sharing some of the more personal details of their lives.  Most importantly, their likes and dislikes.

Nami's interests surprised no one, her likes? Money and competence.  Her dislikes? No money and incompetence.  A woman of simple pleasures, or so Sanji commented.

"What about you?" Nami asked, the question directed at the cook.

"Everyone knows what Sanji likes!" Chopper said, hopping up from his spot on Robin's lap.  "My name is Sanji and I like pretty ladies," the reindeer said, his voice slightly deeper as he pranced around the deck, walking over to Nami.  "Oh Nami dear!" He mimicked.  

Sanji frowned, crossing arms over chest, while Nami and Robin laughed at Chopper's example.  "Yeah! Well! I have fine taste, and the ladies of the ship just so happen to be the finest." The blonde argued.

"I'm only teasing you Sanji," Chopper said, waddling back over to Robin.  "What are your other likes?"

"Food," the crew groaned.  Obviously.

"Well, I-I don't like when people disrespect the kitchen!"

"We know!" Nami said, "you're like an open book.  I don't know why I asked," her words were harsh but there was a smile on her face.  

Sanji pouted before casting his gaze onto Robin.  "What about you, my sweet?" He asked with hearts in his eyes.

"I suppose my favorite things would be...well, all of you of course.  Exploring, reading, learning, and history," she rattles off.  The Straw Hat Crew collectively had tears in their eyes from saying one of her favorite things was them.  Little did she realize just how much her appraisal meant to all of them, tugging at their heartstrings in ways she wasn't yet capable of understanding.

"And what about your least favorite things?" Usopp asked, casually wiping the tears from his eyes.

"Oh, easily the World Government," Nami and Usopp fell backwards, shocked by how massive her answer was, but equally not as surprised considering all they had just been through.

"We should have expected that," Nami noted,

"I don't know why I even asked," Usopp muttered,

"What about you Zoro? You've been awfully quiet," Robin asked,

The Straw Hats turned their attention to Zoro, the swordsman had been dozing in and out of sleep for the better part of the conversation, not really paying attention to his friends.

"What about me?" He asked, lost from the conversation.

"What are your favorite things? And your least favorite," Robin clarifies,

"Hm.  Well, my least favorite thing is being woken up from a nap, and...." Zoro's eyes flicker over the crew for a moment, pausing, then he looks back to Robin.  "I don't have a favorite thing,"

"Oh that's bull! Everyone has a favorite thing! Luffy's is meat, Franky's is being the center of attention, Chopper's is-" Nami pauses her rant to look at the Reindeer, "What's your favorite thing again?"

Chopper's face fell, saddened that the navigator didn't remember his favorite thing.  "Books and my best friend, Usopp."

"I'm your best friend?!" Usopp chimed in, hand placed over his heart, "I'm touched, Chopper, thank you."

"That's beside the point!" Nami interrupted, rounding on Zoro.  "What.  Is.  Your.  Favorite.  Thing." She said, stepping over to the swordsman and poking his chest with every word.  Zoro's eyes flickered again, but this time Nami followed his gaze.

"Obvious, right?" Robin asked upon seeing an epiphany cross Nami's face.

"Oh!" Nami broke out in a grin, "I know your favorite thing, Zoro,"

"Well that's impossible, I don't have one."

"I wanna know Zoro's Favorite thing!!!" Luffy, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during the exchange, (he was focusing on a fidget toy Nami had given him earlier that day to shut him up) piped up.

Zoro's face shifted hues.  The pink dusting his cheeks an exact opposite to the green of the hair on his head.  "I told you.  I don't have a favorite thing." He insisted, getting to his feet to walk away and leave the nonsense behind.  But Luffy wouldn't take no for an answer.

“Oh, c’mon Zoro!” Luffy was on his knees, hands clasped in front of him as though he were praying.  Begging the swordsman to answer what, at this exact moment, the captain deemed to be the most important question in the world.

“No.” Zoro said simply, utterly unphased by the captain’s antics, though he couldn’t help but let his eyes linger just a touch longer than usual on the dark haired pirate, burning the image of Luffy on his knees into his mind forever.  Not that he wanted that image for any particular reason, heavens no.

“But everyone else told us their favorite things! C’mon! It’s not fair!” Luffy complained as he walked on his knees over to Zoro, gripping the hem of the swordsman’s shirt, eyes wide, lips pouting.  For a moment, Zoro’s knees were weak, but it was only a moment.  Passing as swiftly as it came, mostly by Zoro’s own willingness to shove whatever was trying to surface in the expanse of his mind—his heart—back down.  He buried the feeling beneath a mountain of denial.  Whatever it may have been could not be if no one else ever saw it.  At least, that’s what the swordmaster told himself.  (Little did he know that two of his crew mates had already seen what he was so adamant to refuse.) 

“Yeah, Zoro, Luffy’s right!” Usopp chimed in, arms crossed over his chest, nose pointed to the sky as he narrowed his eyes.  “Why wouldn’t you want us to know what your favorite thing is? We can get it for you, sing it to you, make it for you!  You just don’t want to be our friend do you?!” 

“What! Zoro doesn’t want to be our friend?!” Chopper gasped, eyes turning on the green haired man.  Zoro’s heart dropped at the expression on the reindeer’s face.  The poor little guy looked heartbroken.

“I never said that!” Zoro argued,

“But you implied it!” Usopp countered, the swordsman’s eye began to twitch, a habit he had developed in his time with the crew.  The more they agitated him, the worse it got.

“Zoro…” Luffy’s begging pout turned into a sad one, eyes brimming with tears as he said, “you don’t want to be our friend?” 

“Not you too!” Zoro snapped, shaking Luffy from him.  The rubber man fell back on his rear, still staring up at the first mate.  “It isn’t something you can gift me, or make me, or find for me.  So drop it, I’m not telling you.” the swordsman stormed off, leaving the crew behind to watch him go.  Not that he could go very far considering they were on the ship, in the middle of the sea, with the next island still a ways off.

"So you do have a favorite thing!" Luffy called after him, and Zoro cursed himself under his breath.  How he had let it get this far he didn't know.

Roronoa Zoro wasn't the praying type, never had been, but over the last few months he'd developed a habit of silently begging to whichever gods were willing to listen.  This only occured in very specific instances, including a very specific person, because of very specific feelings--

No.  No.  There were no feelings.

Well, for whatever reason Zoro deemed it necessary to grovel, this situation was one of them.  The swordsman had retired to his cot with the falsified notion that the captain would drop the subject, forgetting all about it.

He was wrong.

"Zoro!" Luffy called from his post upon the figurehead of the ship that following morning. "Are you ready to tell me!?" He slingshotted himself at Zoro, causing the man's eyes to widen as he instinctively opened his arms to catch the captain.

The force of Luffy's assault sent them both sprawling to the floor, Luffy upon Zoro, hands firmly on the swordsman's chest as he looked down at him.  "C'mon, c'mon, tell me! We're friends, right?" With every word Luffy inched closer and closer and much to Zoro's dismay he wasn't able to back away.

"No." Zoro answered, cheeks that specific shade of pink again,

"Woah, Zoro, your face is all flushed.  Are you okay? Do you have a fever!?" And before Zoro knew what was happening, Luffy placed his lips firmly against Zoro's forehead.  His temperature rose, his face reddened moreso, and Zoro's heart beat in his chest with such force he was certain if not for his ribcage the organ would leap straight from it.

"You feel kinda warm," Luffy murmured against Zoro's forehead.

"Get.  Off." Zoro said as he pushed the captain off of him,

"Zoro! Hey! Careful!" Luffy hollered as he rolled back, using his strength to push back on the floor, he hopped to his feet.  "You really should have Chopper take a look at you, you're all red in the face and clammy.  I think you're sick!" 

Zoro might not have been sick, but he felt like he was going to be sick.  Butterflies fluttered in his stomach, his palms were sweating, and by the gods was Zoro hot.

"Plagued by your own misguided decisions?" Nami called down from the lookout, a cheeky grin on her face.  "You should know better than to think you can keep a secret from him, Zoro." 

"I'm not keeping a secret, I don't have a favorite thing!" Zoro yelled up at her.

"Spoken like a man with a favorite thing." Luffy observed.  "Fine.  Don't tell me, but I'll figure it out.  Don't you worry," Luffy's tone was serious, his eyes narrowed into a scrutinizing glare.

Zoro was worried.

Zoro was very worried.

Still, he humored Luffy, taking the captain's concerns to heart, Zoro asked Chopper to look him over.  Because why else would his heart rate quicken and his palms sweat and his face get all red and feverish if he wasn't sick? Luffy was probably right, he had a cold or something.

"Or something," Chopper confirmed after giving Zoro a thorough exam later that day.  "you don't have any of the symptoms now and you seem perfectly fine.  Your heart sounds normal and healthy, your lungs are clear, your temperature is average, and you're not sweating any more than usual." The doctor assessed, "what was happening when you experienced these symptoms?" 

Zoro shrugged, "our captain was pestering me,"  he answered honestly. 

"Ah, what was he pestering you about?" 

"My favorite thing," 

"Which is?"

"Lu- CHOPPER! I told you I don't have a favorite thing!" He yelled, Chopper squealed, covering his face to hide his laughter.  

"I almost got you, Zoro!" The reindeer was jumping up and down, excited giggles pouring out of him.

"No, you did not.  There's nothing to get." Zoro argued, but there was.  Zoro knew it, not that he was willing to admit it just yet.  

"Mhm, Zoro has a favorite thing! Z-or-o has a favorite thing! It starts with an L!" Chopper cheered, and as if summoned by the gods themselves, Luffy burst into the room.

"An L!?" Zoro was convinced the scenario had been staged.  There was no way they were that in-sync, it wasn't possible.  Anything is possible with Luffy involved, a small part of him whispered.  The same small part Zoro had been shoving aside and actively avoiding.  Every time he thought it was buried, he was proven wrong.  That part of him kept clawing its way back to the surface, pounding against his skull, demanding to be seen.  

"This makes the search much easier!" Luffy stated.  "We'll figure it out Zoro, you can't hide it for long!" And what was worse than Luffy's determination? Zoro fully believed Luffy would figure out what his hypothetical favorite thing is.  Not that there was anything to figure out, Zoro didn't have a favorite thing.  Though, the more he protested it, the less he believed it himself.  

"Lavenders?"

"No,"

"Lilacs?"

"No,"

"Lutefisk?" 

"No!" 

"Lye-" Zoro put his hand over Luffy's mouth.

"Shut.  Up." the captain had been at it for hours, literal hours, going through every L word he could think of, but alas, to no avail.  Much to Zoro's appreciation, Luffy was still too dense to realize the truth.

Except there wasn't a truth, Zoro wasn't hiding anything, and he most certainly did not have a favorite thing.

Luffy stuck out his tongue, licking Zoro's hand.  The swordsman's face warmed, cheeks once again that gods awful shade of pink, and he tore his hand away from Luffy.

"Gross!"

"You liked it," Luffy proclaimed with a confident grin, and that grin made Zoro's head spin.  He did, in fact, like it.  Just a little bit.  A smidge.  An itsy bitsy bit.

"That's disgusting," 

Luffy rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff.  He'd been at it for hours trying to get Zoro to tell him his favorite thing, and while the others had all let it die, Luffy was still intent on finding out.

At first, Zoro didn't tell him because he firmly believed he didn't have a favorite thing, but now it had started to become a game.  How many outlandish things starting with L could Luffy guess before finally giving up?  The number climbed higher and higher, and when Luffy would run out of guesses, he would leave Zoro be.

And then he'd be right back at it with a new list, watching intently, analyzing Zoro's reaction to each of them.  Sometimes, Luffy would notice that Zoro's face would turn shades or his voice would crack, but the swordsman swore up, down, and sideways that what Luffy had guessed wasn't his favorite thing.  Luffy would huff, cross his arms, and plop on the ground to sulk, contemplating what other L words could be Zoro's Favorite Thing.  This went on for days until suddenly Luffy stopped and Zoro believed that the captain had given up on it.

This was not the case. 

When finally the Straw Hat Pirates docked at the next island, Luffy spent the better part of their excursion asking everyone he came across for things starting with the letter L.  Some of the more common ideas included: lollipops, licorice, leprechauns, leopards(which happened to be Luffy's least favorite thing since Enies Lobby), leopard geckos, laughter, lions, lemon(no, not the type one eats), lemons(yes, the type one eats), limes, lying, and lastly, love.

"Love? That's absurd, Zoro doesn't love anything," Luffy said.  It was a mother and her daughter that he was talking to.  The little girl had been crying, having scraped her knee on the ground, only to stop when she saw Luffy stretch his arm to grab a kebab from a nearby stand.  The mother stopped him, asking about his devil fruit powers, and Luffy took the opportunity to ask her about her thoughts on things starting with L.

"Luffy Luffy Luffy!" The little girl chanted.

"What what what?" Luffy asked, a broad grin on his face.

"Luffy starts with L!" 

Click

A devilish smile made its way to the captain’s face.  Luffy did start with L, and now that he thought about it, Zoro didn't react to the words he was saying, but the actions he was doing. 

Though Luffy was one to often leap before looking, he deemed this a delicate situation, one with which he couldn't dive head first into–no matter how little patience he had.  No, no, Luffy had to play the long con.  He wanted Zoro to admit what his favorite thing was, and Luffy had just the brilliant plan to get Zoro to confess.

"Nami!" Luffy called to the navigator upon spying her and Usopp across the way.

"What?" 

"I know what Zoro's Favorite Thing is." His tone was so severe, his face so serious, that Nami couldn't help but raise her brows.

Somewhat condescendingly she says, "oh yeah? What is it?"

Luffy’s grin only widened, "it's not an it, it's a who." Usopp looked between the two of them,

"His favorite thing is an owl? I can't see why that would be something he would want to keep hidden from us.  I mean, it's just a bird." he deadpanned,

Nami slapped her forehead, dragging her hand down her face, she looked at Luffy.  "Who?" Wanting to be absolutely sure that Luffy knew who it was, not wanting to give what she already knew away.

Luffy pointed to himself.

Nami made a face, her expression reading something like 'not bad,'

"Alright, now that you've figured it out.  What exactly do you plan to do with that information?" 

"You'll see,”

It wasn’t until they were back on the ship, sailing off towards their next destination, leaving Zoro with no escape, that Luffy began to enact his foolproof plan.  It was late, Zoro was up in the lookout on the first watch giving him even less room for escape, when Luffy snuck up on him.

“Zoro!” The swordsman jumped, hand over his chest as he let out a heaving breaths.

“What the hell!?” Zoro asked, but Luffy didn’t answer, merely plopped down beside the swordsman.  Right beside him.  So close their knees touched.  Unfortunately, the dark of night prevented Luffy from getting a good look at Zoro’s face, but the hitch of his breath and stillness in his posture told the captain all he needed to know.

“I know Zoro’s favorite thing,” Luffy sing-songed, the tone of his voice leading Zoro to believe the captain absolutely knew what his hypothetical favorite thing was, but Zoro was nothing if not a stubborn man.  So, rather than admitting defeat, he met Luffy with defiance.

“Impossible, I don’t have a favorite thing,” he repeated for what felt like the millionth time.

“Hm, that’s true,” Luffy agreed, Zoro let out a relieved breath, but his relieve was short lived for Luffy continued speaking, “you have a favorite person,” 

Zoro’s eyes went wide, his palms were instantly sweating, his stomach turned in knots, and his heart.  His heart thundered in his chest once again, loud, angry, obnoxious.  Zoro wondered if Luffy could hear the beating of his heart, but he didn’t say anything.  The green haired man didn’t want to give the captain any more ammunition than he already had, but silence felt violent and Zoro feared giving it all away if he spoke.  He was at a crossroads with what to do.  Especially with Luffy inching closer and closer, his hand on Zoro’s knee, and–wait–why was he so close?

Luffy leaned closer and closer until Zoro could feel his breath on his neck as Luffy asked into his ear, in a tone so soft Zoro was certain he’d never heard it before, “are you going to tell me?” 

No.  He wanted to say.  I don’t have a favorite anything and most especially not a favorite person and that favorite person is absolutely not you.  He wanted to argue, but Zoro didn’t get the chance.  He turned his head to look at Luffy, their faces centimeters apart.  Luffy closed the space between them, pressing his lips to Zoro’s.

Zoro didn’t think.  He merely reacted, his eyes widening for the briefest of moments before they closed and he kissed his captain back.  One of Luffy’s hands tangled in Zoro’s hair, the other gently on the side of his first mate’s face.  It was Luffy who initiated the kiss, and it was Luffy who ended it.  Pulling away he said,

“You’re my favorite too.” 

“Oh.”  

Cross Posted on AO3 

#zolu #zolu fic #italicized oh #fanfic #one shot #one piece #roronoa zoro #monkey d luffy #zoro x luffy #luffy x zoro #help #ive fallen down the zolu rabbit hole and i cant get up #i need life alert #heres another story about the same two fucks realizing they love each other #its literally the same fucking story istg #but like #this time zoro gets the oh #i love ace luffy so i cant write more than a kiss and tbh it killed me to have him initiate anything at all #luffy's dumb but also like scarily smart he just doesnt always possess the brain cell #usually chopper has it

[atthefishhouses]

15 questions + 15 friends

Thank you for tagging me, @betweentimes !

1. Are you named after anyone?

No, no odd or old-fashioned middle name either.  :-)

2. When was the last time you cried?

Ugly cried? At the end of November.

3. Do you have kids?

No.

4. What sports do you play/have you played?

As a child, I pretty much hated all sports. Now I do yoga and cardio pretty consistently because both come with health benefits that my adult self can appreciate.  

5. Do you use sarcasm?

In my head, I do so very often and freely.

But in interactions in real life it very much depends on who the person is to whom I am talking. If I think someone is smart and good-natured enough to get that I actually like them and that I am not trying to ridicule them in a mean and hurtful way, I might use mild forms of sarcasm on them on occasion.

Irony is a different matter. I could not exist in a world where I could not use irony relatively freely and frequently.

Online, however, I mostly try to avoid both irony and sarcasm as they rarely translate well.

6. What is the first thing you notice about people?

In real life, probably their general appearance (i.e. posture/body language, hair, clothing, face, voice)

7. What is your eye color?

A blue-ish green

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

No scary movies for me, please – way too boring and formulaic for my taste.

I love a good thriller or crime show if the characters and the storytelling are compelling.

Happy endings for the sake of happy endings are absolutely overrated.

To me, the most important question is: Does the ending fit the narrative and the characters? If it does, I am fine - happy even - with any kind of ending.

9. Any talents?

I don’t think I have what one might call a hidden special talent.  On the upside, I am reasonably good at a lot of the things that I do or have to do on a regular basis.

10. Where were you born?

In a hospital somewhere in Germany - nowhere special.

11. What are your hobbies?

The usual: reading, gardening, knitting (Thanks Spatort fandom for allowing me to rediscover how much fun knitting can be!), yoga, my dog.

12. Do you have any pets?

Yes, a dog.

13. How tall are you?

5’ 7’’

14. Favorite subject in school?

In school, I loved languages and history.

15. Dream job?

As a kid, I wanted to become an archaeologist – very, very badly. And although I did not become one, my 8-year-old self would probably be very happy with the kind of digging into things that I get to do in my current job and be very proud of me.

I don't know who has already done this, but I am tagging @opheliagreif @carmentalis @quelquunberlin @theoniprince @dasloddl @thisfeebleheart @writingowl1985 and anyone who wants to do this, really. ❤️

But only if you want to. Please don't feel pressured!

#tag game #about me - kind of

[sideprince]

2, 8, 12, 27, & 48 for Snape, please! It’s a lot, feel free to pick and choose if you don’t want to answer them all :)

Someone else asked 2, 8, and 12 and I answered them here so I figured I wouldn't rewrite them again :).

27. Their guilty pleasure

I think he likes good food, especially sweets. He doesn't like indulging in things he enjoys in front of others, though, so he has a stash of treats in his office or private room and will eat second and third helpings of dessert alone in the kitchens in the middle of the night when he's done patrolling. This is compounded by how precious Dumbledore is with his own sweet tooth, always having treats in his office and his password always referring to some confection or other, and I think Snape hates the idea of making his sweet tooth a part of his personality so Dumbledore's whole thing makes Snape want to be even more private about it lest someone think he's also being precious.

I also think he likes good food in general and has quietly learned to become a great cook. Having grown up in poverty he always values the availability of quality and interesting ingredients and spices. (He definitely tastes things he's intrigued by while he's experimenting with potions, like the archaeologist who has to lick things they find.) I think he goes into the kitchens late at night sometimes just to do a bit of cooking for himself, but doesn't share this with anyone. It's a guilty pleasure because he doesn't feel entitled to it, he has some lingering guilt around it from his childhood (like with all things indulgent and pleasurable), and while he doesn't resist indulging in what's available to him, he also doesn't want anyone to see him doing it or even know about it. He likes it being something that's private and just his.

48. Scariest moment of their life

There's a lot of meta around about Snape being indoctrinated into the Death Eaters the way a radicalized youth is into a hate group or a vulnerable person into a cult. These kinds of groups bring people in by making them feel safe, valued, and seen. And then there's a moment where the recruit has cut ties with their friends and family and support networks and pledged themselves to the group, and all that attention that's been heaped on them starts to suddenly abate and become pressure and implied threats. Suddenly there are clear implications that they're in now, there's no way out and they have no one left to ask for help, they're reliant on the people they trusted and are now vulnerable because of. That moment when they turn around and realize the door was locked behind them and they didn't even notice.

I think the moment when Snape joined the Death Eaters and realized what they were capable of and willing to do not just to their targets but to those from their own ranks who were disloyal, and that he was even more alone and friendless and vulnerable than before he joined, I think that was the scariest moment of his life. Followed very closely by that feeling being exacerbated by the threat to Lily - but by that point he had gained some footing in that world and had become an asset to Voldemort so he would have had more of a sense of personal safety at least. There's something about him going to Dumbledore, who he didn't trust to ask for help for just himself (probably because of his lingering distrust of him after the werewolf prank) that makes me think Snape was beyond fucks at that point. He was willing to throw caution to the wind and something in him, a kind of bravery he hadn't been able to muster for himself, was with him. So I think the moment Lily was threatened was only the second most frightening for him.

When he was alone, committed to this group of people who he realized were violent, powerful people who brought him in to take advantage of him, not to appreciate him like he had thought, and he suddenly understood what they really were, and that Voldemort wasn't a visionary but an unhinged yet immensely powerful wizard, and he couldn't find his bravery or a way out, I think that would have been the most terrifying moment of his life.

#asks #meta

[iwoszareba]

🌼🍕🍀 for Aqil!

🌼  - How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

He is 26 at the start of wotr. His age was decided by me aiming for university graduate vibes.

His general timeline goes:

his sorcerer magic manifests at 5

becomes an oracle at 15

goes to study in Absalom at 19

finishes his studies at 25

then around a year long Areelu induced memory gap and starts game at 26

🍕  - What is their favorite food?

I talked about his attitude towards food recently.

If asked for his favourite he would mention a cook lady who has worked for his family since he was a kid so anything prepared by her tastes like home. Now that I think about it he probably keeps a little notebook with her recipes but to his own dismay he can never get them quite right (or maybe they just taste different when you are surrounded by your family).

I also looked up wotr foods and he would get extra buffs from curse pilaff and spicy pastry.

🍀  - What originally inspired the OC?

In his case it was my usual organic and long-winded method of developing ocs haha. 

If only possible I try to use things I haven't done before so the first thing I decided was a kitsune oracle combo. 

Initially I wanted to go for lone strider subclass bc it has desert in the description and that made me think of making a fennec kitsune. So the very first character iteration was an eccentric hermit who instead of being grouchy is actually really excited about meeting people again.

But I was really struggling trying to pick an oracle mystery that would speak to me until I looked up backgrounds and realised that Osirion historian and ancestor mystery go hand in hand and both fit the desert theme I wanted. 

So the second character iteration was an archaeologist who while exploring an ancient tomb gets possessed by a bunch of spirits. Then spirits were changed to getting awakened to your previous lives but I ultimately dropped that because Pillars of Eternity already had reincarnation shenanigans and I didn't want to do it again. Also the more I thought about having lots and lots of memories stretching back into the past the less I liked it in the context of Sosiel romance. I wanted someone who would still match Soso's young energy.

So!!! I took both ideas and reworked them into what Meru is now. They are ancestor spirits and the whole becoming the next Meru has a bit of that reincarnation vibe while still keeping Aqil his own person.

I'm not entirely sure why I picked Nethys. I think I just met that priest guy in Kingmaker and was fascinated by the idea of a god who does not speak with his faithful as a rule. Like what does that do to your worship in the fantasy universe context. And Nethys is a big deal in Osirion so that also worked for me.

The family stuff started as a reverse of my previous character, the aasimar guy I made for bg3. His deal was that his religious family considered him to be a god's chosen while he did not vibe with that at all and ultimately bailed on his supposed destiny. So when making Aqil it was 'okay let's do that story again but now the character completely accepts being chosen as his identity, what that could look like'.

I added sorcerer initially bc charisma caster combo and the idea of someone double juiced with innate magic is both interesting and funny to me. Also arcane bloodline gets you a familiar and I was DYING to give him a jerboa for my desert theme haha. Also it worked out as a convenient reason for why he in particular was meant for being the chosen of the god of magic.

I think that covers all the major aspects of his character. Oh! Blackened curse because by making it an arm and a leg instead of both hands it becomes an instant visual connection to Nethys.

#pwotr pals #oc: aqil meru #thank you for questions!! #sorry his development was so messy i think i was cooking him for like few months haha #oc asks #other

[livwritesfics]

𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 𝐑𝐀𝐍 (𝐈 𝐑𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐎 𝐅𝐀𝐑 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘)

𝟏𝟎 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐀𝐖𝐋𝐔 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 - 𝐋𝐢𝐯 ☆ - Wattpad

You can read on either my ao3 or my wattpad! Also posted down below!

Law realized he had feelings for Luffy when he met him at Punk Hazard. This boy that he met... There was something about him that made Law's heart go thump, thump, thump.

I never thought I'd meet a boy like you,

The way Luffy would just jump into trouble just like that annoyed him to no end. However, Law didn't have it in his heart to get mad at him. He just couldn't! And even if he did, he couldn't stay mad at him forever. Whenever he wanted to stay mad, that face just automatically made him smile all over again. His smile, his eyes.

The kind of eyes that hypnotize me through, hypnotize me through.

Law knew that if he wanted to be in an alliance with him he shouldn't get attached. But Luffy was like a drug. He always wanted to be around him. Having Luffy's beautiful eyes on him and only him. But, he knew from experience that he shouldn't. All the people he knew and loved disappeared just like that. And just like that he was alone all over again. Law knew he couldn't feel that all over again. It would tear him apart.

And I ran, I ran so far away.

But no matter how much Law tried to separate himself from Luffy, he. Just. Couldn't. Get. Away. His feelings would grow stronger. So strong that he would blush at everything he did. This boy had so much of an effect on him. He wanted more.

I couldn't get away.

This entire thing was stressing Law out. He wanted to see if he could ask Luffy's archaeologist, Robin, for help but... He couldn't. It would be so embarrassing.

Eventually his feelings grew so out of control that he went one day to the library on the Sunny, to ask her for advice.

He knocked on the library door, trying to seem a little confident. Robin looked up from her book and motioned for him to come in.

"Law-kun, what brings you to the library?" She put a bookmark in her book and closed it.

Law scratched the back of his head trying to form the question he's been asking himself for weeks now. Robin, patient as ever, waited for him.

He was fussing so much over this that he groaned and put his head in his hands.

"I... I don't know what I should do." He said quietly. He leaned back into the chair and finger-combed his hair. "I really just don't... know anymore."

Robin grinned knowingly and put her head on her hand, "Is this about my captain?"

Law leaned forward and looked at her. She knows. Law nodded slowly.

"I see. What does your head tell you to do?"

Law looked at her confused. "What do you mean?"

"What do you think you should do?"

He thought for a moment. That's easy. He thinks he shouldn't be with him because... he could loose him in battle against Doflamingo. They were on their way to Dressrosa.

"My head... tells me that I shouldn't be with him. And that this alliance should be strictly professional." The words tasted horrible on his tongue. He wanted to gag.

"Mhm." Robin pondered his response. "And what about your heart? What does your heart want?"

All of a sudden Law pictured Luffy. And how much he loves to be around him. He wants him. He wants him so much.

"I want him." Law blurted out without hesitation. Law slapped a hand over his mouth and ducked his head in embarrassment as Robin laughed.

"Well, there you go."

Law immediately knew now. It doesn't matter anymore. He wants him. He needs him. He finally got his answer. He stood up abruptly and ran out of the library thanking Robin.

He went to the place he knew Luffy would be at: Sunny figurehead

Almost as if Luffy could sense that he was coming to him, he jumped off of the figurehead and stood in front of Law looking up at him. Law gasped at the beauty of him and blushed.

A beam of light comes shining down on you, shining down on you.

"I figure you want to tell me something, Torao?" He raised an eyebrow willfully.

Law took a deep breath. And instead of saying any words.... he kissed him. Right on the lips in front of everyone. Luffy gaped but melted right into the kiss.

Reached out a hand to touch your face,

Luffy wrapped his arms around Law's neck and stood on his tippie-toes. In result Law moaned into the kiss and smiled. This felt right. This felt so right.

When the kiss ended, They both smiled and giggled like idiots.

"I made this," Law laughed again, "so hard for myself. All I had to do was just go for it."

Luffy played with Law's baby hairs on the back of his head, "I was waiting for you! You took so long! I should've just made the first move myself."

Their foreheads touched and he sighed. Yes, he was scared of loosing Luffy, and loose another person he held so dear to his heart. But, Luffy makes him happy. Luffy was home.

He came home. He loves this man.

"Well, I'm sorry I made you wait. How 'bout I make it up to you." Law chuckled and smirked.

And so, they went to the Captain's Quarters. And were there for a long time.

@lawluevents

#lawlu #lulaw #onepiece #ao3 #fanfics #law is a dork #10 days of lawlu #10 days of lawlu 2023 #first kiss #love confessions #pining #idiots in love #first time #monkey d luffy #monkey d. luffy #trafalgar law #one piece trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law fanfiction #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar water d law #trafalgardwaterlaw

[ferromagnetiic]

❝ i wouldn't recommend eating luffy. i'm afraid he's nothing but sinew and bones. ❞ robin's got her chin in her hand and a soft, but threatening smile. the archaeologist tilts her head. ❝ you might choke. ❞ (robin)

          【 UNPROMPTED ASK. 】                     @cptnslog 【 Robin. 】

          This one. Kid remains light years away from feeling anything akin to trust towards any of the Straw Hats, but this particular broad he might just trust the least. She was far too clever, and cunning women like her always knew exactly how to trap men right under their thumbs.      Possibly literally, in her specific case. He didn't want to mess with her too much when he wasn't going to get anything out of it. She would be a real pain in the ass to deal with if she started using some bullshit mind games on him. They were rivals, but he would save the potential psychological warfare for later.

     ❝ Bones still got marrow in 'em. I've eaten leaner meat than him. ❞

He's grumbling back to her. He recognizes a threat when he hears one, but he was already wary of her even without her saying anything. Still, his response needn't concern her too much; the fact that Luffy remains entirely uneaten should indicate that what he's saying is essentially just a deadpan joke.

     ...Also, he tried to take a bite out of him earlier and his teeth wouldn't penetrate his rubber skin, and he really did taste terrible, so he eventually gave up because it was pissing him off too much. Her elastic Captain remains unharmed, much to Kid's vexation.

#cptnslog #【 ⚙ ˊˎ | GET OUT OF MY WAY | ask. 】 #【 ⚙ ˊˎ | RECKLESS TONGUE | ic. 】 #// sorry this is late!!!! #// kid is. very unsure about robin. #// he will not chew the chew toy in front of her but he will still do it when she isn't looking.

[metataxy]

I share my dreams with ghosts, #4

Summary: The man who calls himself Luthen Rael was a Jedi once.  This is how he survives Order 66, and what comes after.

Not posting to AO3 until I figure out where this is going!

Warnings: Language, misogyny and speciesism due to shitty Imperials.

Part 1 here , Part 2, Part 3

Occasionally, the business interests of Luthen Rael (both legitimate and less so) lead him to negotiate with the Hutt Empire or the cartels.  Given his reputation for brokering fair deals without bloodshed, he’s become a favourite intermediary for museums and private collectors looking to acquire or ransom valuable pieces from black market sellers.  The confidentiality of these arrangements is ideal for trading in other commodities, like weapons, information, refugees.

Today, Quinlan brazened through the front doors of his shop with a new shopping list.  The Kiffar has shaved his head and grown a beard, slipped in contacts to hide his Fallen eyes.  He’s dressed himself with the poor taste of the nouveau riche, swaggering in badly tailored spidersilk robes and high heels, a string of kybers flashing round his neck.  Palpatine had started a fashion trend.  Once it was known that those in the Emperor’s favour wore kyber, everyone was wearing kyber.  Or at least, what they’d swear on the Force was kyber.  Never before had there been such a demand for high-quality imitations.  Everyone, from the Moffs’ trophy wives down to the middling rich, seemed to have a Kyber, complete with an improbable biography of the Jedi who’d owned them, and a sufficiently bloody tale of how they’d been executed.

There were two benefits to this: First, no one doubted Rael when he claimed to be out of stock of kyber and unable to find more. All the reputable dealers were out of stock of kyber.  And second: Jedi could openly wear kyber among the wealthy without incurring anything more dangerous than envy.  Ironically, it was the safest way for Quinlan to move these last remains of their brethren.

But he hasn’t come today to pass these stones into his safekeeping.  He has a more valuable and dangerous resource for Rael to acquire.  

After they have settled into the backroom, and Quinlan has tested the integrity of Rael’s shields, he lays it out.

“You’ll be going to Hutt Space and buying the indenture of a student along with the items I’ve listed here,” Quin passes the datapad along to him.  

Rael scans the inventory and its destinations, including one Kleya Marki, human female, 17, midway through university education, five languages, and blinks.  He’s grown accustomed to the traffic of sentients, but they’ve always been routed elsewhere.  “Is it wise to move people through the shop?” he asks Quinlan, guessing that this was to become another front of the underground.

Quinlan grins.  “Oh, we’re not moving people through the shop.  Luthen Rael is acquiring a mistress.”

“A teenager?  In this shop?” Rael stares at Quinlan.  He remembers all his Master’s lectures on how use of the Dark Side seemed to frequently entail some form of cognitive decline or executive dysfunction.  

“Yup,” Quinlan smacks his lips around the syllable.  “Teenager makes perfect sense.  Luthen Rael is a reformed ephebophile.  Alderaani society will love it.  Her age makes it a scandal, but the cost of her contract and your willingness to teach her a real trade makes it a charitable act.  Besides, you’ll eventually fall in love and marry her—or at least will her your estate.  Love story for the ages.”

“And why in the Force would I fucking well do that?” Rael demands, waiting to hear the logic that surely must be behind this request.

Quinlan smiles.  “Because Kleya Marki has the magic touch?” he leers and lifts his gloved hands to wiggle his fingers, and Rael is half a moment from slapping him when he understands.

“A psychometric?”

“More sensitive than I am, even.  The Educorps archaeologists practically breed them.  There’s whole families with the gift.  Every time the Council gets—got one of us that couldn’t adjust to the Temple creche, they shipped them out to those families.” Quinlan’s expression turns wistful.  “I’ve stayed with them a few times.  It was amazing.  Brand-new bedding and cutlery for visiting psychometrics.  No tasting the memory of yesterday’s meals on caf forks. And I met a guy there,” Quin’s gaze turns dreamy.  “I can’t even describe the sex—”

“Please don’t.”  Rael considers everything Quin has just said.  “The Council’s always wanted more psychometrics.  I can’t believe the Educorps held back so many.”

“Correction,” Quin says flatly.  “The Council has always wanted functional psychometrics.  You realize not every Sensitive is mentally or physically suited to be a Knight, right?” he asks rhetorically.  “Psychometry is one of those things with a higher risk of crazy.  They prefer to raise their own kids.  Every so often, one got called to the Knighthood and came to Temple as an Initiate, but mostly?  They stuck to themselves.”

“So how did one get in Hutt Space?”

“Bunch of them were already collaborating with Hutt personnel on a dig.  When they heard Kenobi’s warning and the bounties started airing, they brokered terms with the Hutts.  Hutt Empire owns their service and any wealth accruing from that service for twenty years, with the optional extension on fulfillment of those terms.  During that time, the indenture cannot bought or traded except by willing agreement of both parties, and any children born to a Jedi parent during that time stay with the parents and enjoy the same protections and freedoms.”

“And the Hutts hate Palpatine.”

“And the Hutts hate Palpatine,” Quinlan agreed.  “Thank the Force he’s such a xenophobic tool.  Most of them are worried His Wrinkles will declare war on Hutt Space, and that he might have enough firepower to win it.  And all of them know exactly how useful even untrained Sensitives are for predicting the stock market and running a gambling den.  My contacts tell me their Council drooled when the proposal was made.”  He made a disgusted face.  “They keep sending slave girls to try to seduce them.  They’re hoping we’ll ‘accept their assistance in repopulating’.”

He’s heard worse.  The memory of the creche rises up in him: the peace of it, the smell of talcum powder and baby shampoo, the thrum of a dozen small minds soft with sleep.  If Palpatine would hurry up and die, he’d happily offer his own assistance to refilling the cradles Skywalker had emptied.

“Why this Kleya Marki?”

Quinlan shrugged.  “She’s functional, or close enough to it that you couldn’t tell otherwise.  Smart.  Her gift’s powerful but not disabling.”

“And she never volunteered for the front?”  In the last months of the war, they’d been promoting the younger, abler Corpsmen as Commanders.

Quinlan snorted.  “C’mon.  You’ve met Jedi who weren’t raised on Coruscant.  Not everyone agreed with the wars.  In fact, Ms. Marki’s opinion at age 14 was, and I quote, ‘that it was a stupid war fought with slaves and the galaxy better off if the damn Republic just let the Separatists go their own way.’”

In retrospect, the girl had been completely right.

“They did conscript her for the Shadows about a week before Kenobi took out Grievous, but then, well.”  Quinlan shrugs.  “Anyways, she’s prepared to help now, and you can’t tell me you don’t need the help.”

It had been difficult, trying to run the shop all on his own, and while he’d learnt some ways to compensate for losing the Force, there was no work-around for mind-reading.

“Fine,” he agrees.  “But I hope that girl’s ready for what she’s walking into.”

Quinlan grins.  “Don’t worry, old man. I briefed her on all your annoying habits.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The cost of Kleya Marki’s indenture is staggering, and still, she’s worth every credit.

When he meets her, she’s wearing a close-fitting grey skirt and blazer, with heels.  Her dark hair is bound up.  The professional attire does nothing to detract from the interest of the Hutt accompanying her.  The great slug accompanying her eyes her with almost as much longing as the cases of credits Rael’s carried with him.  He almost seems regretful when Rael finally names a price he can’t refuse for her contract.

Rael hasn’t interacted with many psychometrics, but still, Kleya is not what he expects.  Quinlan wears gloves when possible to minimize the risk of touching someone’s memories.  Kleya doesn’t.  Her hands are always bare.  She touches the controls of his ship, door handles, light switches, as casually as he does.  She ignores his growing tension as she picks up his whiskey and pours him a glass, or his alarm as she borrows his well-used holopad to search their business inventory.

Finally, he offers to get her gloves.  

“No thanks.” She doesn’t even lift her eyes from her readings on pre-lightspeed Core civilizations to acknowledge him.

He’s not sure how to respond.  In the past month, she hasn’t mentioned anything about his memories, so a conversation about privacy and boundaries seems unnecessary.  “If there’s anything you need for your psychometry,” he begins awkwardly, “in case it distracts you, let me know.”

She does lift her head now, expression baffled.  “Okay?”

That is the end of it.  Later Quinlan clarifies it for him.  

“Do you need noise-cancelling headphones because you can hear?” the Kiffar asks rhetorically, sipping his wine from their private booth at the operahouse.

“No,” Rael responds automatically, “but you’re wearing the metaphorical equivalent right now.”

“Heh.  Yeah,” Quinlan pauses for the soprano to finish a technically difficult section, then continues.  “Again.  Different bloodline, different abilities and tolerances.  And I wasn’t raised with a dozen psychometrics.”  He considers.  “Some advice: if you want your privacy, you really should stop leaving your cognitive residue all over the house.  Psychometrics don’t drop memories like that unless they want someone to read them.  I mean, she knows you’re not psychometric, but it’s still—”

“—the equivalent of hearing someone babble random nonsense in the background?” Rael guesses.

Quinlan grins.  “I was thinking more like living with a puppy that can’t be toilet-trained.”

Ouch.  

Quinlan shrugs.  “Meditate some more.  Work on suppressing your emotional reactions.  It’ll help with your shields in general, but it’ll also give her a ‘cleaner’ living space.”

Perhaps it is only an effect of her becoming more comfortable with her new environment, but in the following months, as he becomes more careful to modulate his feelings in the common rooms, she seems to become more relaxed.  

For appearances’ sake, he sets her up in a room adjoining his on Coruscant and instructs the servants to begin cleaning out and refurbishing the suite across from his in Rael House.  His ‘mother’ learns of it.  She still has enough presence of mind to interrogate him on the subject.  He has to say enough to worry her: no, he’s not getting married, yes, it’s an offworld girl he met through his ‘business’.  He hates to cause her anxiety like this, but a few luncheons later, Menica Rael’s complaints confirm the rumour that her son is falling back into old habits.  No one is surprised.

And yet, after meeting Ms. Marki, no one treats her with less than respect, despite her age.  

Kleya Marki behaves with the self-assurance and maturity of a woman twice her age.  Sly Moore enters the shop once, ostensibly lured by the promise of a Jedi artifact (real, this time, a dry doorstopper of a treatise that would do no worse in Palpatine’s collection than it had in the back of Rael’s closet).  Kleya greets him, gets him refreshments.

He tries to grope her ass.

She twists his wrist the wrong way and smiles coolly.

“We are grateful for your business, Master Moore, but please refamiliarize yourself with our store policies,” she tells him, no-nonsense.  “Do not touch wares on display.”

She releases his wrist a moment later and segues into a description of their latest imports.  Moore, apparently shocked that an underling would dare rebuff him, sits mutely through her explanation and then complains to Rael.  Rael stares back, unimpressed, until finally Moore seems to get the hint.

“You aren’t actually going to let her get away with that behaviour?”

Rael contemplates how he would kill this man.  “Why not?” he asks idly and offers Moore a cigar.  It’s the only acceptable way for a man of his stature to score a nicotine hit.

“You told me once that you’d never tolerate any uppity whores—” and Rael tunes out the vulgarity that follows.  It ends with some lewd references to his cousin’s previous generosity regarding the time and affections of the ‘women’ he’d dated, and a piteous, “What ever happened to share and share alike?”

Rael puffs his cigar, contemplative, and breathes out the smoke.  A shoot-out had been too clean a death for the man whose life he inhabits.  “Fact is, Sly, I’m getting old.”

“Noooo,” Moore protests with faux sincerity.

“I am,” he insists.  “I nearly died.  Puts things into perspective,” Rael puffed, pleased with himself.  His ‘near-death experience’ is such a helpful excuse for Luthen Rael’s change of heart.  “I could buy whores ‘til I drop dead, but they don’t stick around to hold your hand in the hospital.  And I need someone smart and reliable enough to handle the business if I’m ever incapacitated again.”

Sly looks skeptical, then seems to work it out in his mind.  “Ohhh.  Oh, ho, ho.  Damn.  So this bitch toughs it out with you, learns your business, and in return, you get exclusive pussy for life.”

“I’ll thank you not to talk that way about my business associate,” Rael tells him seriously.  

Sly’s assessment wasn’t unlikely.  You could buy anything in the flesh trade, and while contracts of that nature weren’t common, they weren’t uncommon either.  Traders wouldn’t waste time or money to educate slaveborn stock, but equally, they wouldn’t waste money by selling talented or educated slaves for manual labour.

“Damn, okay.  You going to what, marry her, get a half dozen Rael babies—”

“She’s fourteen,” Rael lies.  “I’m going to enjoy my time with her, and then maybe in four or five years I’ll think about the rest.”

Coming from the lips of supposed flesh trafficker and confirmed ephebophile Luthen Rael, this is as good as a declaration of marriage.  Sly Moore passes the word around that Rael’s gone straight.  Kleya begins to receive nothing worse than disapproving looks from the matrons and sly innuendos from the odd being attracted to her.  

And as the months pass, and Rael’s courtesies towards her show no signs of waning, his more conservative clientele begin to assess her with interest. Her polite answers to their seemingly casual questions are perfect.  Yes, she is currently in school, Master Rael was generous enough to pay her tuition for an advanced degree in antiquity and ancient languages at the University of Coruscant.  No, she does not believe she is nobility.  She was slaveborn.  The Hutts sometimes offer indenture for particularly skilled and intelligent slaves, if they think it will increase their productivity during the term of their service. No, she is not married, she tells an enquiring man, without the coquettish laughter most girls her age (and Kenobi) would add after such a confession.  Her business with Master Rael keeps her much too occupied for other pursuits.

All these answers, with their ambiguities, tally up favourably for her in the public mind.  She is a serious and brilliant young woman with ambitions of her own.  The upper class of Coruscant cannot imagine a slaveborn girl to be able to converse with them on their level, and their collective biases fabricate limitless possibilities for her origins.  Every awful party Rael attends, some drunken noble asks him if she doesn’t look a bit like that noble, whose second cousin once removed was killed by pirates, and what if those pirates actually sold that cousin into slavery and used him as breeding stock?

And at every party, Rael begins to use his meditative discipline less and less to suppress his disgust at the Emperor’s lapdogs, and more and more not to laugh at their stupidity.  He nods gravely and suggests yes, Kleya does look a good deal like that person, and he actually enquires after possible connections on her behalf—because that is exactly what a nobleman jealous of his stature does, when trying to establish the legitimacy of a mistress he’s half-eyeing to wed.

As it turns out, Kleya doesn’t need any real similarity to the nobility to acquire connections, familial or otherwise.  When she attends galas with Rael, she presents herself fresh-faced in modest dresses.  The experienced invitees of these events can recognize professional escorts conversing playfully at the sides of their wealthy patrons, and lower-level bawds laughing too loudly over their champagne.  

Kleya is neither.

Kleya has all the shy composure of a Chandrilan girl of the nobility approaching womanhood.  In fact, more than one person mistakes her for it.  She turns down from a Chandrilan boy, explaining she’s here tonight with someone already.

“Who?” he asks brazenly.  “He can’t be more attractive than I am,” and he winks at her.  Kleya does not blush, and her expression does not waver.  

“In all the aspects significant to me, he is,” she says, and glances sideways at Rael.  The boy takes a moment to get it.  He must have mistaken Rael for Kleya’s father.  He looks shocked, and a little affronted on Kleya’s behalf.  

Rael likes him.  He feels nauseous at the role he is playing.

The boy bows again to Kleya, then nods tersely to Rael.  “Miss, Master Rael.  An excellent evening.”  He excuses himself with this rote response, but later, Rael sees him holding a whispered conference with some elderly ladies.  The next person to ask Kleya’s company is a tall blonde girl of the Keto family.  Of course, Luthen Rael, perverse as he is, can hardly deny the opportunity to watch his <i>assistant</i> amuse herself in the arms of another lovely young thing.

Serra Keto sweeps Kleya off to the matrons, who interrogate her with more genuine concern than any of the errant socialites who’d visited their shop.  She reassures them that Master Rael is treating her perfectly well.  They concur she must be too ashamed to discuss her circumstances, the poor dear, and dedicate themselves to ensuring she knows she can leave the situation at any time.  In the following months, she receives more invitations than she can accept to luncheons, art openings, charity exhibitions.  An elderly duchess—‘once a celebrated courtesan herself!’—plies her with unasked for advice on how to best manage her situation.  A half dozen requests to purchase Kleya’s contract arrive from concerned parties.  If Rael had purchased Kleya as an investment, he could have sold her indenture at a profit twenty times the initial cost.  

The matrons are vocal in their dissatisfaction that Rael won’t sell, “Not,” in his words, “for any price.”  Public opinion shifts, and polite society comes to agree with its crasser counterpart that yes, Luthen Rael is actually besotted with his assistant.  

Rael’s mother learns of it and begins insisting that Kleya spend time with her.  The insistence isn’t necessary.  Kleya likes his mother.  

She never says as much, but he can tell by how the girl always seems to be in the same room as her when they visit the House on Alderaan.  How Kleya anticipates when she will be cold, gathering up shawls and warm socks for the old lady before Menica thinks to ask the servants.  She rubs the old woman’s swollen feet for her and brings her tea.  Come summer, Rael always finds them next to each other on the veranda swing, surrounded and covered by a multitude of tookas.

Rael House is not the Temple, and they are not Jedi, but sometimes, with these people, Rael feels like he has come home.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The source of much of Kleya’s composure, Rael learns, is her psychometry, supported by minor kleptomania and frequenting consignment shops.  

His new assistant has the unique ability to slip on the personalities of other people together with their clothing.  It’s a unique form of method acting only someone with her ability could employ.  In fact, she confesses, before the wars and the advent of the Empire, she’d imagined a career in live theatre.

The idea of a Jedi working outside the Order surprises and interests Rael almost as much how the girl assembles her wardrobe.  

He’d already raised one girl through adolescence, and he hadn’t expected to take any more interest in Kleya’s wardrobe than his late Padawan’s.  Of course, Rael reflected, Nim had chosen most of her clothes from the positively dizzying selection of neutrals available for Jedi robes.  Everything else had been leftovers from their missions, or gifts from Rael’s own Master.

When Kleya shops, she inevitably runs her fingers along the top of the rack, running through the sense memories of each garment.  It is not a process without risk: as well as she controls her expressions, he can see her eyebrow tic when picks up a negative memory, and once, she pulls her hand from a silk tunic with a small stain at the edge as though burnt.  When she finds something she likes though, she pulls it off the rack.  She rubs the fabric between her fingers, as though luxuriating in the texture, or testing the thread count.  She tries everything on for the sake of appearances, but it doesn’t matter if it fits.  Any article that feels right, that had belonged to the kind of person Kleya aspires to model, goes to the tailor’s for resizing.  

The only time he’s seen her visibly unhappy is when she’s had to put back a visibly used garment.  For her purposes, some of the best clothes have been worn until they’re little more than the memory of a garment.  But Luthen Rael’s mistress would never buy threadbare clothes, Luthen Rael’s mistress can just barely explain her purchases at consignment shops as another means of procuring eclectic goods unavailable elsewhere.  So, mostly, she puts them back, or slips them into her purse in the changeroom, because Kleya Marki is a thief.

It takes Luthen Rael a few months to realize this, because Kleya is careful, and because her skill rivals anything he learnt as a Shadow.  He only notices because they spend so much time in each other’s company.  They attend a gala: months later, the patterned cloth he’d seen around the neck of a senator’s wife trims the cuffs and hem of her blouse.  They visit the home of the Hapan ambassador, who dresses all her husbands in the same robes of bespoke spidersilk.  A few weeks later, he finds intimates in the same damning cloth heaped in the laundry.  A moff asks if he’d forgotten his knit scarf at their shop, a few weeks later, Kleya has a new pair of socks in the same soft red wool.

Between Kleya’s thefts and her psychometry, selecting a tailor had itself been a nightmare.  Not only did they need someone capable of discretion, but someone with the right personality.  The wrong tailor could spoil the cloth with their own psychic residue simply in handling it.  Kleya used to fit her own clothing, but her not inconsiderable skills were still not on par with the expectations of their social milieu.  Garment after garment had been spoiled with traces of frustration and unwanted flashes of the craftsmen’s private lives before they’d found their current tailor, Madam Chamb.  

The pacific Mon Cal matron wore gloves for most of the tailoring process to keep her hands from drying and chafing on the cloth.  As Imperial bias against non-humans had driven most of her clientele off-world, she’d been ecstatic to receive their patronage.  For his part, after Kleya had rejected half the tailors in the district, Rael would have happily compensated her at twice her hourly rate.  He settled for telling everyone who asked that his assistant had finally found someone who suited her.  Kleya’s reputation for being particular and Madam Chamb’s skill were recommendation enough: soon, even the bigots had to see their tailor.  Madam Chamb had been able to expand her shop and hire on her niece and nephew.

And if Kleya occasionally brings in the oddest garments and asks Chamb to transform them into a new piece for her, well.  She enjoys the challenge.

-----------------------------------------------------

Notes:

(1) Some of concepts around how psychometry informs Quinlan Vos’s preferences has been inspired by Blue_Sunshine’s epic fanfic ‘The Desert Storm’, which I HIGHLY recommend you read.  The plot and character dynamics and development are gorgeous and very satisfying.  Also: more Quinlan!  

(2) Just in general, I love seeing more speculation on how neurodiversity intersects with Force Sensitivity.  I mean: we have people with attributes not shared by most of the population, but how does that affect them--especially the ones who aren’t Knights?  Blue_Sunshine does a good job of showing neurodiverse/disabled Jedi.  Also, GallusRostroMegalus’ flashfic

#Star Wars #Andor #Luthen Rael #Quinlan Vos #Jedi #psychometry #Kleya Marki #neurodiversity

[loumands]

15 Questions 15 Mutuals

i was tagged by @cunt-lestat @taste-of-blood-and-altars @medusadeux thank you <33

Are you named after anyone? Not a person but my name is a reference to a dream my mom had when she was pregnant

When was the last time you cried? Uhh like yesterday. I'm a very easy crier

Do you have kids? Not yet but i really want to, i love kids!

Do you use sarcasm a lot? Surprisingly not so much, especially irl i tend to be pretty earnest and honest

What sports do you play/have you played? I don't play any team sports but i like biking, swimming, skiing and climbing

What's the first thing you notice about people? I guess just their general appearance and vibe, and also their hair because i spend a lot of time trying to take care of my own difficult hair lol

What's your eye colour? Coming out as a green eyes haver

Scary movies or happy ending? I like both depending on my mood

Any special talents? I have a really good spatial awareness, i never get lost for example

Where were you born? Finland

What are your hobbies? Aside from endless media consumption i sing and like gardening

Do you have pets? Dog!

How tall are you? 176cm-ish. I used to think i was taller and was very disappointed when i recently found out i'm not all that tall lmao

Favorite subject in school? History probably

Dream job? My unrealistic dream is to be an astronaut. Being an archaeologist would also be cool

I feel like most people have already been tagged in this but if you haven't consider yourself tagged lol

#tag games #keanu.txt

[megraen]

I am starting a new fanfiction for the Uncharted fandom. Enjoy.

The Taste of Poisonous Gold - 01

“Well,” He spoke softly, a slight smirk playing at his lips. “You’re Sara.” “And you’re Nathan.” She spoke, returning his smile. “Call me Nate.” He breathed. “It’s what Sam called me.” When Nate spoke his brother’s name, his eyes dropped to his mug, frown pulling at his lips.  “In your letter…you said Samuel…sorry, Sam…you said he passed a year ago.” She hesitated to ask him.  Nate nodded. “Yeah, we were working a job with a friend in Panama…it didn’t go well.” Sara’s brows furrowed. “A job?” “Uh, yeah…” Nate looked back up at her, sparing a glance to the waitress at the counter and signalling the woman over. “I’m a treasure hunter if you can believe it.” A small smile spread over Sara’s face as she heard him, a brief chuckle leaving her lips. This earned a look from Nate, who failed to understand the joke.  Sara had waved her hand before her face when she saw his expression, not wanting to worry him. The waitress had come over, placing a cup in front of her, filling it with coffee, and even touching Nate’s cup. “The irony.” “Irony?” He asked, taking a sip of the fresh coffee. “I’m a history major.” She stated, smirking when he almost choked on the liquid he was trying to ingest.  “Damn, it really does run in the family…” He mumbled. Nate placed his cup down and reached for a bag by the legs of his chair, opening it up and pulling out a white journal, the initials C.M. embossing the front. He offered it to Sara, who took it. “This belonged to our mother, and she was an archaeologist and historian. Your middle name, Evelyn, was actually from her mentor.” Sara bit her lip to hold back the tears that were stinging her eyes, her fingers tracing over the initials of her mother’s name. She spotted a small piece of paper peaking out of the top of the journal and grabbed it. At first, she assumed it would be a photo of her mother, but instead, Sara found herself staring at a man for looked to be in his late twenties. He looked similar to Nate in appearance but with somewhat longer and more dishevelled hair. “That’s Sam.”  Sara continued to stare at the photo of her eldest brother, a man she would never get the opportunity to meet. She closed her eyes, fighting back the tears again. “What was he like?” She asked, opening her eyes and meeting Nate’s fellow green orbs.  Nate chuckled, his mind replaying memories of his brother. “He was a sarcastic idiot, always cracking jokes, even at worst times. But he also had a knack for getting himself into trouble.” His smile fell as he added the last bit, hinting to Sara that his passing might have resulted from the man’s reckless nature.  “More family-shared traits then,” Sara commented, sliding the photo back into the journal. Nate chuckled. He knew what she meant the moment the words left her mouth. She was as much a Morgan as he was. As Sam was. She had offered the journal back to Nate, but he shook his head, pushing it back towards her. “I want you to read it, to understand our mother as we did. It’s all we have left of her, I was too young to remember her face, and when our dad abandoned us, we assumed he got rid of all photos of her.” 

#oc: Sara Briggs #wip: The Taste of Poisonous Gold #fan fiction #fanfiction #uncharted #nathan drake #samuel drake #wip wednesday